Hey, I Gotta Take Out My Anger On Someone!

Dave- "Errrr, I can't believe the dog ran away again. When he comes back, I'm gonna' shoot him."

Toots- "NO DADDY, don't shoot the dog. He's ouw fwend........ Daddy, awe you weally going to shoot him?"

Asker- "No, we'll just beat him."

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Those Pesty Pets Cont'd

When Dave & I had been married for about a year, we decided to get a dog. We thought we'd cut our teeth on a puppy before having a baby. Little did we know it would be the dog cutting his teeth- on our couch, the blinds, the carpet and the chairs.

Having had one dog and three babies, I am convinced that dogs are more work, at least initially. Children grow into their energetic, hyper states. Dogs are born manic. Zeus was a ball of pure energy. He cost us two security deposits and more money than I care to remember in vet bills. But he was, and is a sweet dog.

It is nice to have a dog for the kids. They ride on him and pull his ears and generally harass him, and he lies there and takes it. He is long-suffering with baby C, and fetches the tennis ball forty-five times in a row even when C throws it only ten inches from Zeus' nose. I love him because if he is down on the floor playing with them, I don't have to be.

They actually play "dog" even when Zeus is not around. They take a leash and hook it on C's diaper and he crawls around making dog noises. It's hysterical.

One of my favorite things about Zeus is that he is a canine vacuum. Milk spills? Just call Zeus. Cheerios all over the floor? It's OK, Zeus will help you get them. Spaghetti dried to the plate? You got it. Of course, he's also willing to snatch perfectly good cheese slices out of hands held too low. And he does have a tendency to grab things off the table if left alone. Small price to pay, me thinks, for not having to pre-wash the dishes.

Lately, A's been asking for another dog. Daddy says "when we move", but Mommy says "you get another dog, I get another baby." I wouldn't mind adopting another dog, but it's the puppy part I don't want to go through again. Dave tells me we should let A help train the dog and it will ease the pain when Zeus inevitably passes.

We've actually talked to A about how dogs don't live as long as humans and that Zeus will probably die when A is about ten years old. He brings it up quite often and tells me how sad he will be. Part of me wants to console him and tell him that all dogs go to heaven. But I think that's a load of crap, so I just tell him it's the circle of life. I know; I'm a cruel realist. Oh, and while you're finding reasons to hate me, you should know that we don't teach our children about Santa, the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny either.

So we're just sticking with one dog for now. Between him, the three kids, a neighborhood cat who used to be ours and our fun, fun fish tank we are set. We may get another dog when we move, we may get another baby, or we may decide to trade all of them in (kids included) and just get a Corvette.

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Those Pesty Pets

We have fish. The reason we have fish is because they are supposed to be low-maintenance, inexpensive and enjoyable. After a few days of non-stop trips to PetSmart, I think we should have gone with the Chia Pet.

We've had our 75 gallon, bowed front (woo-woo) fish tank the entire 7 years of our marriage. For the first 6 years, it made a wonderful junk drawer. Or we would feel motivated and fill it with water, gravel, and plants. We never quite made it to the fish stage, however. Finally, after numerous cousins pointing out to A that other people had fish in their fish tanks, we decided to take the plunge. I read the Aquarium Owner's Guide cover to cover. The first few months, everything went well. The fish were happy, the plants were thriving. Then, last week, little guys started going belly up.

I took some of our water to PetSmart to have it tested. Right away, I was on the PetSmart girl's bad list.

"You don't have test strips at home?", she asked.
"Uh, no. That's why I just asked you to do it," I kindly replied.
"Hmmmm" (don't you love hmmmms?)

I got the feeling that she was looking at me the way that I look at other people whom I believe should not procreate. She had that this-woman-is-not-worthy-to-keep-fish-in-her-house look. I was busy trying to keep T from putting her hands in the cricket tank. Then she started "tsking".

"Tsk. Tsk. You must have city water"
"Yes, but I use the stuff that makes tap water safe"
"Uh-huh, but it doesn't convert nitrates!"
"Huh?"
"Look at this test strip. These nitrates are off the chart" By this point, other PetSmart customers are peeking around the aisles to see who on earth doesn't understand the nitrate cycle. A tried to be helpful by piping in "Hot dogs are full of nitrates."

So, I asked her how to remedy the situation. She wanted to know how often I changed the water. I told her I added water whenever I could hear the filter gasping for a drink. She gave me a little laugh and said,

"No, not how often do you add water. How often do you change the water?"
"Oh", said I in that I-didn't-know-that-was-part-of-the-program tone of voice.
"You need to be changing 25% of the water every 10 days, you know."

Like that's going to happen.

After being loaded up with the proper test strips and water conditioners and replacement filters, and very specific instructions (I think she was actually wanting me to write them down!), I left hopeful that the remaining fish would live to see another day. I cleared out the grocery store shelves of spring water and spent the evening elbow deep in fish poop.

The next morning, several fish had sprouted white goatees. Attractive on Sean Connery, not so good on Neon Tetras. Luckily, I had some Ick and other Fungus treatment and proceeded to turn the tank bright blue for the following 3 days. 4 more dead fish later, it was back to PetSmart.

This time I got the other PetSmart girl. Actually, she's a late middle-aged woman who obviously spends way too much time with her fish. Very, very knowledgeable and more than willing to share every single detail about her fish experiences. She kept on talking even though I had to say "excuse me" every 15 seconds to tell the kids to climb down off the rolling stairs, and take their hands out of the Beta tanks and no they cannot have a hermit crab. She didn't even miss a beat, just kept right on telling me all about the first tank she ever had, and the one she had in college, and the 14 she has in her apartment now.

Anyway, apparently, I was treating the wrong kind of fungus and she kindly showed me the right kind. After sharing with her my concerns about changing the water every 10 days (or even 10 weeks for that matter), she showed me a magic potion which extends the water life for up to 6 months without having to be changed. She is now my best friend.

The other PetSmart girl was there yesterday as well. Thankfully, she didn't hear my diatribe about how I didn't have the time nor will to actually maintain the fish tank. She did however, walk down the aisle just in time to hear T say, "Mom, my fingers taste funny" and me reply "That's because you put them in the Cichlid tank last. You need to start with the Cichlids and end with the Goldfish tank, T." The PetSmart girl just narrowed her eyes at me and flounced off. I'm sure she is blogging somewhere about the nerve of some people to own fish tanks and not even care.

So, today my fish tank is fluorescent green. I'm hoping our last few fish will make it through the night. If they don't, I'm not sure if we'll restock or not. Part of me wants the storage space back, but part of me wants to go back and ask the PetSmart girl what kind of fish she recommends for a fish tank that only gets fed every 3 days.

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